


Maternizing

by GlitterGluwu



Series: C*mmies(sions) [7]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Male Lactation, Milking, Non-Human Genitalia, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:00:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25472764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitterGluwu/pseuds/GlitterGluwu
Summary: “My… chest… is sore,” Seteth admitted at last. “But there is no reason why you should take the matter to heart, I assure you. My discomfort should not hinder your studies.”“But it’ll hinder your teaching, right?” Leonie argued, and Seteth’s heart sank as she stepped closer, cracking her knuckles. “I know a thing or two about massaging sore muscles. Lemme just get the ache under control and then we can get right back to business, no worries.”“No - that is far from necessary,” Seteth blustered.--Leonie's persistence is endearing, but not so much when Seteth's trying to keep something secret.
Relationships: Leonie Pinelli/Seteth
Series: C*mmies(sions) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1264997
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Maternizing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlainP_RK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlainP_RK/gifts).



> I mean, really, not much to say aside from thank you to Alain and PLEASE look at his [Twitter banner](https://twitter.com/NaughtyRk) because that might be the hardest I've laughed at anything in awhile.
> 
> Seteth and Leonie!!! I haven't written nearly enough of either of them and I am DEEPLY shamed. Fortunately enough Alain has quite successfully recruited me onto the Seteth Love Train and I Always want to write Leonie, so hopefully I'll have something else for one or the other of them in the ficlet collection. For now, though..... Enjoy!!!!!

Seteth had long held the mental image of Leonie as the sort who struggled with the act of sitting still, or of committing her attention to a single thing. It bothered him little, naturally - part of being a teacher necessitated that he find ways to reach his students regardless of their strengths and weaknesses, and he had been practicing the art since long before Leonie had even been born - but that day in particular, it seemed she was determined to test his patience.

It was ridiculous. He was not an impatient man; truly, it took a great deal of internal and external stressors to push him to his limits.

Or, he supposed, particularly profound discomfort that he should really have found the time to relieve before their tutoring session. He  _ would _ have. He really would have, if he had not encountered Leonie on the docks that very morning and seen fit to while some time away before their appointment. He could very well have taken the time between to tend to his own needs, if only he had looked that far ahead.

Worse yet, Leonie was beginning to give him sidelong looks, to stumble over her answers. She knew he was growing irritated, and that irritated him all the more - it was far from  _ her _ duty to allay  _ his _ discomfort.

“Again, Ms. Pinelli,” he sighed, his hand twitching over his arm where it was crossed over his sensitive chest. “And perhaps you should stop stretching  _ while _ giving your answers. I fear you’re distracting yourself more than you believe.”

Leonie obediently fell still, though she made no move to take a seat; he had not expected her to. “Sorry,” she rasped, then listed them again. “Um, Gautier, Fraldarius, Blaiddyd… Gideon. Goneril,” she began to trail off, squinting through her split focus as she, without realizing it, began stretching her arms behind her head yet again. “... Galatea?”

A muscle jumped in Seteth’s jaw. “For the  _ umpteenth _ time,” Seteth stated, regretting the words and their tone the second they made their way out of his mouth. To her credit, Leonie was quick to correct herself this time.

“No, no, you’re right, uh - Daphnel.”

Seteth puzzled for a moment over whether the proper course was to apologize, or to wrest the remainder of the answer from her. “... Yes. And why could it not have been House Galatea to sign the first - failed - Faerghan declaration of independence?”

“Because they hadn’t split from house Daphnel yet,” Leonie supplied, looking relieved to have at least one correct answer under her belt. Seteth nodded, glancing down at the abbreviated history he had amalgamated for this review session. His chest took that opportunity to throb, pushing him that much closer to losing his focus - and his patience - altogether. “Um.”

Seteth looked up from the study guide. “Yes, Leonie?”

She opened and closed her mouth, and Seteth fretted for a moment - Leonie wasn’t one to hold her tongue for fear of retribution, which meant he had crossed a line he had hoped not to cross - but ultimately, she managed without any assurances. “Are you doing alright? It’s just that, you know, you’re not  _ actually _ scary most of the time, and today -”

“I suspect I’ve broken my record,” he sighed, and she winced - a sympathetic motion, but nonetheless a wince. “You have my apologies, Leonie. And my condolences. I assure you, you have done nothing so intolerable as to deserve my wrath.”

Leonie bent sideways, her hands on her hips and bouncing at a forty-five degree angle, and Seteth very nearly smiled. She truly didn’t recognize her own incapacity for staying still, did she? “Something wrong, then? Lady trouble?”

That prompted a laugh. “No. And I’m afraid that if there were, it would hardly be my place to tell you.”

She shrugged. “I mean, you’ve gotta get it out somewhere. Might as well, right?”

Perhaps there was a sliver of truth to be had, there. “My… chest… is sore,” he admitted at last, conscious as ever of the subtle weight of his arms crossed over it, wondering whether he had reached the point of leaking through his tunic by then. “But there is no reason why you should take the matter to heart, I assure you. My discomfort should not hinder your studies.”

“But it’ll hinder your teaching, right?” Leonie argued, and Seteth’s heart sank as she stepped closer, cracking her knuckles. “I know a thing or two about massaging sore muscles. Lemme just get the ache under control and then we can get right back to business, no worries.”

“No - that is far from necessary,” Seteth blustered, standing abruptly from his chair, keeping his arms resolutely crossed. Leonie raised her eyebrows, holding her hands up as if being apprehended.

“Whoa! It’s okay, I just wanna help,” she murmured, stepping closer yet. Goodness, she was not to be deterred. “C’mon, the way you’re covering yourself makes it look like it really hurts… you didn’t get attacked or something, did you?”

One would think that, after well over a millennium of Seteth having to contend with human curiosity, he would have paused to think of a reply if he were ever to find himself in a situation like this. Unfortunately, he had not. 

“Is… Is something leaking from - wait, did you really get attacked?!” Leonie pressed, and in the next moment she was trying, fruitlessly, to pry Seteth’s arms from where they had barred her entry; it did give him a rush of pride to know he was still strong enough to counter this particularly strong young woman.

“Leonie, I - no, I haven’t been -” Seteth struggled to explain over her astonishment, boisterous as it was. Perhaps a straight explanation - or, well, a half-truth, because knowing the full secret of his body would likely shake even her - was the best course, after all. “I will only tell you the full story if you stop accosting me.”

She stumbled back, brushing her hands over her thighs as if dusting herself off - she  _ was _ amusing, wasn’t she - and muttered, “Strong for an old guy. I mean -”

“I take no offense,” he said, then took a deep breath. He uncrossed his arms, grimacing at the reveal - he’d been leaking a great deal harder than even he had anticipated. It had seeped right through his tunic and down, forming dark streams on either side of his torso. He cleared his throat - humans produced milk, too. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to explain. “I have… a condition,” he began.

“You make milk,” Leonie observed, and he coughed into his fist. She looked a little sheepish, herself. “Okay. So a massage isn’t gonna help, huh?”

“No,” Seteth hummed in amusement. “I fear that the only help to be had is in being milked. Needless to say, that will have to wait until after our appointment.”

“Why?” Leonie asked, cocking her head. “You’re uncomfortable. What’s stopping me from just siphoning off a little of your milk?”

He could hardly bear it. She was so straightforward in all she did, in how she - he wondered whether his late wife might have said the same, if he’d been able to lactate when they’d met. He shifted uncertainly, and apparently that was all the invitation Leonie needed.

“C’mon,” she spoke, keeping her voice even as if taking care not to spook an animal, taking another step closer and reaching for the clasp on his tunic. “At least take some of the pressure off. You seem miserable.”

“It isn’t as bad as all that,” he murmured, but he didn’t stop her. She peeled aside the first panel of fabric, and his undershirt was in an even sorrier state - he could feel plain air against the long, parallel streaks and it made his breath stutter on its way into his lungs. “I have been coping with this since - s-since before you were born.”

“And you still let it get this far today, huh?” Leonie hummed, reaching for one breast as if still set on massaging it before reconsidering. “Hold on - I’ll have a better angle if you sit down.”

“Y-yes,” Seteth assented, some part of himself still shaken, still chiding him, still infuriated at him for allowing himself relations with a  _ student - _

But these weren’t proper relations, were they? They were fulfilling a basic need, not… caving… to carnal pleasures. He was in pain, and she had offered to alleviate it. What was the point in denying her, if it continued impacting his performance as it had?

It was with that mingled string of thoughts that he allowed her to steer him back to his desk, back into his chair - and then she placed one knee between his thighs, straddling his thigh as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and he felt her fingers skirting the hem of his undershirt. He held his breath, shocked at how  _ intimately _ he felt each touch when she peeled it upward, as if he himself had reverted into the exact kind of lustful teenager he so often chided his students for being.

“Aw,” Leonie laughed, flicking a fingertip over one sensitive nipple, forcing a gasp from his mouth. “Shy nipples! I would never have guessed.”

“I - shy?” Seteth managed, cracking one eye open before realizing he’d shut them.

“You know, when they hide like this,” Leonie explained, reaching for his left nipple, coaxing it out in a practiced motion. “See? There you are,” she said as if to the bud itself, smiling. He shuddered as she leaned in, her breath gusting over this most sensitive of places as she spoke again. “I haven’t seen a whole lot of ‘em, but I never forgot how to get ‘em to open up.”

And her mouth -

It was splendid - it was overwhelming. He hadn’t been - like this - in  _ so _ long -

“Fuh - f-flames,” he wept, clutching - clutching her  _ thigh, _ Saints, no -

She hummed into his chest, her lips forming into the perfect pucker, drinking him down without wasting a single moment. She paused after a moment, cocking her head, and said, “Not like you to swear. Is it that good?”

He didn’t have the breath to answer. He dug his nails into her thigh, inwardly telling himself that he had to force it away, to ignore the magnetic pull of her warm, supple skin - of her subtle power, of her strength -

He clutched the arm of his chair with his other hand, unable to pry the first away from Leonie’s thigh. If she minded, she didn’t say - only carried on suckling at his left tit, pulling in long gulps, wringing his milk from him more efficiently than he had ever managed on his own. Perhaps that was the defining factor of the moment, the single problem that made it that much more difficult to endure without squirming, without moaning - Seteth was aware of his own limits, and Leonie was not.

He was faintly aware of the pang in his right side, exaggerated all the more for the lightness on his left, but Leonie seemed as if she was determined to milk him dry before switching sides. He hadn’t enough space in his lungs to force his plea past his gasps, so he pried his hand from her thigh and pushed weakly against the side of her face.

“Mm?” she grunted, and at last, thank the goddess, she parted from his chest. “Other side?”

“Please,” he panted, and she smiled. Her lower lip was slick with pearly liquid and it very nearly drove him mad - and made him all the more thankful when she turned her attention to coaxing his right nipple out of its hiding place.

The pause, however brief, edged half a thought about  _ teacher and student _ into his mind, and he panted, “We - we call them faces of Indech.”

“What? Who?”

“My -” Oh, he couldn’t say that. He couldn’t tell her. He felt his face grow red as she eyed him, then murmured, “P-please, just continue.”

And she did, and it was torture, the wet drag of her tongue over his areola and the briefest touch of teeth against his nipple before she began sucking again. There was something more akin to relief on this side, perhaps helped by the fact that he was expecting the sensation this time as well as by his left side already having been relieved. He still panted into each pull, still felt the room spin, but this time, he was somewhat more aware of the rest of the process. He felt Leonie’s warm weight in his lap more intimately, felt cool air on his bare torso, and most of all, felt that slick-wet-hot pressure of the unsheathed tentacle between his legs.

Wait. Wait, wait,  _ no - _

A moment of panic - could she  _ feel _ it, because  _ he _ could feel it, couldn’t tell whether the pressure of it was just the feeling of it pressing against the inside of his slacks or against her  _ knee. _ His breath hitched and she hummed in amusement and he pushed, without meaning to, forcing her to stumble back to her feet, her lips still slick, her eyes wide with surprise.

He swallowed, forcing himself to breathe. “I,” he struggled, his mind woefully blank, every part of his conscience scolding every  _ other _ part of him, shocked at how easily he had caved. “I - I think - we should continue on another day,” he managed, wincing, pulling his undershirt back down over his torso, as if that would undo everything they had done together.

And Leonie - Leonie looked  _ disappointed, _ but Seteth knew that it couldn’t begin to encapsulate how disappointed he was in himself. She nodded, uncharacteristically silent, and walked to the door, casting glances over her shoulder as she went.

“I won’t tell anybody,” she rasped, and he nodded, not trusting himself to answer.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/glittergluwu) | [My Curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/GlitterGlue)


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